DigiSphere: Birth of Demons
by Genzodus Thoth
Summary: Perhaps the Digital World isn't as idyllic as everyone thinks. Enter a world of conflict, torn by perpetual war. Lost without its god, Fanglongmon, the Four Holy Beasts ravage the land with war. What happens when a hero becomes the greatest of Dark Lords?
1. Chapter 1

The plain was incredibly vast; it stretched as far as the eye could see in any direction, giving the appearance of being endle

The plain was incredibly vast; it stretched as far as the eye could see in any direction, giving the appearance of being endless. Just the same, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but dirt and stone. No hint of green plant or blue water graced the dull landscape with its presence; not even a cactus could grow in such a harsh environment. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, there was life on that plain, life that could not survive elsewhere, in a time of constant violence. Amidst the dust and heat lived a pair, brother and sister, that would surely have been killed and devoured by a more powerful creature in a temperate environment.

Patamon stumbled across the blazing ground, weary from the five mile trip to the small oasis, from which he and his sister got water, and from carrying the rat bladders filled with the precious fluid on his back. His vision was blurred from the exertion, and each step was a living hell. He walked on all fours. His only respite from his task was the small amount of shade provided by his wings, the membranes of which were now blistered from the sun. For a moment, he wondered if it was truly worth it.

He could just lie down and go to sleep. The nightmare of life in a Digital World not regulated by any power, good or evil, would finally be over. Images of his "siblings," now passed on, flooded his mind. It was impossible, of course, for Digimon to have blood relations, but they were his brothers and sisters, nonetheless. They wouldn't let him follow them; they urged him to keep moving.

If he died, then who would take care of poor Salamon? She had always been weaker than the others, but her twin was always there to help her. If he let himself go, then she would be all alone and would soon perish, as well. That alone was Patamon's reason for living in that world of death, and that alone was what made him keep walking. It wouldn't be long: soon, he would reach their cave and would be out of the sun.

Time passed. He could see it now. He hurried, pushing his short, stumpy legs as fast as they could go. Just a little bit further, and he would be in the shade, the blessed shade. Suddenly, something foreign came into view, and he stopped.

There was a stranger in the cave. The other Digimon had not noticed Patamon, but was inspecting his sister, who had fallen asleep. The poor rabbit monster was terrified. What would he do? This stranger looked strong, not compared with many he had seen, but certainly strong for his level.

He whispered a silent prayer to Fanglongmon, wherever he might be, to help him defeat this other Digimon. Upon looking closer, he saw it was a Candlemon, though he was shocked to see the pathetic condition it was in: half-melted, despite having a flame for a Digi-Core. Nonetheless, he couldn't take chances with his sister nearby; he would kill the intruder. He took a deep breath.

"Boom bubble!" he shouted, exhaling a bubble easily as large as he was.

The Candlemon whirled around an saw the attack, just barely dodging in time, and flinging hot wax everywhere as he did so.

"Paraffin paralyzer," he countered weakly, attacking on accident, rather than purposefully.

Patamon rolled out of the way, causing some of the blisters on his wings to pop. He winced in pain, but continued the attack, ramming into the semi-liquefied stranger, whose own body had become a hindrance to normal movement.

"Stop. I just want to rest," he moaned.

"That's just an excuse! You want to kill us and eat our code! Boom bubble!"

The point-blank attack caused another massive explosion of wax. Suddenly, the rabbit noticed the danger of fighting in the cave: Salamon was still asleep, and the flying goo could seriously burn her. He glanced in her direction to see if she was okay, just as she opened her eyes.

"Brother…" she whispered.

"Don't worry. Just go back to sleep," he replied, trying to sound convincing.

"…water…" the cat breathed, barely able to speak.

Patamon glanced over his shoulder quickly. The Candlemon was busy trying to recollect himself. Quickly, he trotted across to his sister and slung the rat bladders off of his back. Then, with horror, he realized that it wasn't just his blisters that had popped when he had dodged that initial attack. All of the water was gone; it was splattered across the floor near the cave's entrance.

It took a whole day to collect water for a week, and night was rapidly falling. The temperature would drop below freezing, but that wouldn't stop the nocturnal creatures from rising from their burrows and going hunting. If he tried to collect water now, he would surely be devoured, but Salamon wouldn't last much longer. He heard a metallic clank from behind him.

"Boom-"

He stopped. The intruder had solidified himself, but he had done so in such a way that his cupped hands held some of the lost water. The rabbit scowled and backed away while his opponent offered the water to his sister. She opened her eyes momentarily, looking upon her savior, before she began to lick up the precious fluid.

She lay down again and whispered, "Thank you." She paused before continuing, "I'm glad you found a friend, brother."

After the soft sounds of slumber could be heard, Patamon turned back to face his foe, "This doesn't change anything! You-"

His sister shivered violently. The sun had set, and the temperature had dropped rapidly. Salamon silently rolled over, huddling up to the Candlemon, who crouched down, bringing his fiery Digi-Core closer to her quaking body.

"Fine," the rabbit monster scowled. "You can stay, but just for tonight."

Seraphimon awoke with a start, the sudden movement of his ten powerful wings scattering papers everywhere.

"It's not like me to fall asleep at my desk," he sighed. "I suppose that working without rest can exhaust anyone, though." A warm smile spread across his face, "Hmph. A hundred years, and I'm still dreaming about that."


	2. Chapter 2

"Administrator Seraphimon," a voice sounded from behind an opening door

"Administrator Seraphimon," a voice sounded from behind an opening door.

A man walked in, his massive armor fitting easily through the oversized door. He truly a giant in every way: both his height and muscles were tremendous, and the latter was made to look even larger by the full plate mail that he wore. The top half of his face was covered by a royal blue mask, with a cross of shining gold affixed to it. That same cross was also at the center of each of his shoulder pads, each of which so large that they could easily dwarf even a teenager in height alone. On his breastplate was the coat of arms that identified him as one of the great angels of the Digital World.

He was a Dominimon, a member of the fourth rank, but still far more powerful than most other Digimon, even other mega levels. He closed the door behind him and bowed slightly before speaking again.

"Administrator Seraphimon, you should take a break every so often. I am more than capable of running the domain for a few days. You haven't even seen Lady Ophanimon in person for three months, and you know how Lord Kerpymon despises email. Your unity as the Three Great Angels has suffered recently."

"Yes, I know, Dominimon, but when I agreed to be the Administrator of CD Domain, it meant that there would be no more traveling around like that. You and I both know that the 'Three Great Angels' thing was just something that the Digimon that we saved came up with and passed around. We were no different than any of the other sell-sword vagabond groups."

"With all respect, my lord, no, you weren't. How many other groups frequently went hungry from not collecting their payment? How many other groups had the power to rule and did not exercise it, living only a humble life as wanderers?"

"Nonetheless, here I am, the Administrator of CD Domain."

"All heroes grow weary of battle, especially if they do not have a home to return to. The Digimon of CD Domain would not let you rest until you agreed to be their lord and protector. You simply decided to keep the peace here, rather than to travel elsewhere and leave such a peaceful country vulnerable to its violent neighbors. I am certain that Lady Ophanimon and Lord Kerpymon will do the same, eventually."

"Perhaps," the governor sighed, laying his head down on his desk.

He was weary, so terribly weary. He was weary of paperwork, he was weary of fighting, he was weary of seeing innocent Digimon die while the Four Holy Beasts fought amongst themselves as to who should take Fanglongmon's place as leader, he was tired of the nine Lord of the Dark Area go about their vile ways unhindered. He was tired of being called a hero, when he was no different than all of the other selfish Digimon that tried to steal life from a world of death.

"Administrator Seraphimon."

His trusted lieutenant's voice roused him from his silent reverie.

"Yes, Dominimon, what is it?"

"It is almost time for Sir Mysticmon's public announcement."

"That's right!" Seraphimon shouted, suddenly wide awake. "Quickly, open a live channel!"

"As you command, my lord," his assistant replied with a smile on his face.

It was good to see his master happy about something for once in what seemed like a long time. His parting from the group had been strained, as they had been together for several decades, and his sister had never before left his side. Even before then, his mood was not the brightest, as his involvement in the well-known group had distanced him from his childhood friend and rival, a Mysticmon who refused to Digivolve to his mega form, despite having more than enough power.

"I've seen the other mega forms," he had said. "All signs point to me losing my bishie-ness."

No one had laughed at the joke, but everyone accepted his decision. He was more than powerful enough, even stronger than many mega-levels, and when it came to spells, he was a genius of the highest caliber. Even when fighting a much stronger opponent, his creative use of code gave him a considerable advantage. He had even invented an item called the "zero loop", which, when worn, afforded temporary protection from the data corruption of the Dark Area. Not many traveled through it, but whenever it was required, Digimon would pay absurd amounts of money just to get one.

Of course, unlike his friends, "Raph" and "Phani", and "that asshole, Kerpy", Mysticmon kept all of the money that he earned, spending it on his magical research. Recently, though, he had disappeared completely, though some of the Angels' underworld sources had suggested that he had undergone a attribute-change reformatting, a terrible digital surgery that some Digimon used as a quick route to power. Most Digimon were Data attribute, making them weak to Viruses. Changing to Virus attribute could let a Digimon gain some easy kills. Neither Seraphimon nor Dominimon could fathom such a happening, so they kept it hidden from Ophanimon, a habit from the old days.

Only a month ago, though, one of his loyal customers announced that he would be making a public announcement from the town hall of Firewall City, at the border of the Dark Area. Though it could easily be a hoax, those who knew of him had awaited today anxiously. Crossing his fingers, Dominimon waved his hand across a blank portion of the wall, causing a large screen to appear. The image of the town hall flashed onto the panel, the streets lined with both cheering spectators and an unsettling number of undesirables with anxious looks on their faces. A moment later, there was silence, as the door opened and a figure walked towards the podium.

It wasn't Mysticmon. It was a Digimon that no one had seen before. He wore dark violet armor with white markings like a skeleton on it. Over that was a cloak of the same color and a helmet with cruel-looking spires rising from it. In one hand, he held a sharp staff with an orb of pure darkness atop it, a vile ball that spewed forth flames the color of the Dark Area's sky.

He spoke into the microphone clearly, unhindered by the skull-like mask that covered his face, "I am Hermon, the tenth Lord of the Dark Area, and starting today, this is my Domain!"

With that, he raised his staff into the air, and the flames surrounding it shot forth like a wave, enveloping the entire city, warping it into a terrible fortress with the town hall as a castle at its center. The town's inhabitants became terrible creatures and started to maul each other, only to be stopped by the Virus attribute mercenaries who had been waiting for this all along. Ignoring what it had caused, the dark energy continued, sweeping across the land. Within moments, the size of the Dark Area had increased by eleven percent. True to his word, Hermon had created for himself a Domain to rival those of the other nine lords.

Then the broadcast ended.

"My lord, surely that wasn't-" Dominimon began.

"It was," Seraphimon replied weakly.

"Brother!" a female voice shouted as another screen appeared. "That wasn't Mys, was it?! It couldn't have been, right?!"

"No, Phani," he sighed, "that was him."


	3. Chapter 3

The high-pitched clink of metal against stone echoed throughout the once-silent hallway. It reverberated through the murky darkness again and again, accompanied only by the near-inaudible rustling of silk. Draped in his finest cloak, a grim figure stalked down the empty passage, brooding over a number of issues, each of which requiring his immediate attention. Despite being wholly encased in armor of the fiendishly strong Dark Digizoid, he was unable to isolate himself from the world, the world he had turned upside down in a single breath. It protected him from the everyday sensations that he had once experienced, of course, but he could still feel the twin weights of responsibility and damnation bearing down on his frail back.

They were burdens that he carried alone, carried willingly, but he felt them all the more for those reasons. They were not burdens that he could trouble anyone else with, though at the mere mention of them, his friends would flock to his sides, helping to hold him up and to take some of the weight off him, but he could not, would not speak of such things. He would carry them alone, forgetting those decades of companionship, making himself cold, just as he had been during those first few bleak years of his life. The he that his friends had known was dead; now he was nothing more than an abomination, a demon that needed to be destroyed to save the world. He was Hermon.

A lingering desire to save his soul remained in his hard heart, a simple desire to tell that one person, that one woman he had secretly loved, of his true mission, but that would only make things harder for the two of them. So, he would keep his silence for her sake, he would slay himself, he would become a puppet on the world's strings for the sake of all that desired peace. He could almost laugh at his success. The Four Holy Beasts had been fighting amongst themselves for centuries in order to determine who would take the place of the missing Fanglongmon, but rather than bringing order, all they had done was bring chaos and death to the Digital World. Ever since his declaration of dark sovereignty, they had begun to recall their forces in the field, having the Devas scramble around frantically in an attempt to quell the fighting.

The Royal Knights, too, were beginning to mobilize. No longer were they simply fighting in random battles, going from place to place simply to wage war; instead they had begun building armies of their own, independent of the unreliable Sovereigns. The number of factions was increasing, but alliances would soon reduce that number and produce a balance of power that would help prevent infighting amongst the "good guys." The Dark Lord could only hope that the balance of power would last. The "heroes" and "gods" of the DigiWorld had been fighting each other for dominancy as far back as he could remember, their conflict reaching back even further than his birth, nearly a century earlier.

While they squabbled over such petty things, however, the nine Lords of the Dark Area had been slowly amassing power, and given only a little more time, would have gathered enough strength to stand against even the combined forces of those "heroes" and "gods." Unfortunately for them, though few noticed it, the sudden expansion of the Dark Area and the rise of a new Lord being broadcast across the world had finally directed the fools' attention to where it needed to be. Hermon stood at the center of attention: the "good guys" wanted nothing more than to kill the one who had expanded the corruption of the Dark Area, and the other Dark Lords, with the exception of the vain Lucemon and the sleeping Belphemon, were begging him to aid them and teach them his secrets, the method to expanding the corruption of the Dark Area at such a rapid pace. He would keep that secret, however: he would never let such a thing be known to anyone, much less those fiends.

"Lord Hermon!" a voice called, breaking the fallen hero's reverie. A Boogeymon flew towards him, a virtual clipboard in his hands, "Lord Hermon, the ambassadors are growing impatient! Lord Belphemon will soon awaken from his thousand-year hibernation! You need to decide how to respond to them."

"All right, I'm coming," a gravely voice groaned from within the skull mask.

"In addition, Lady Lilithmon wants to know if you desire an alliance with her."

"Tell the bitch maybe. Avoid giving a response for as long as possible. I'll keep leading her on as long as I can."

Seraphimon entered the darkened chamber solemnly, his armored feet not making a sound. He could see nothing: the inky blackness was all-consuming. Neither light nor sound seemed to dwell within this room; there was only himself and his ever-present oppressor. He glanced from side to side, attempting to find a sign of something, anything. His memory clouded, and he could no longer remember why it was he had been called there.

A moment more, and his very identity had fled from him, as well. Nameless, he continued to endure the subtle torture of loss, not flinching for anything. An hour passed, then two, but nothing changed: his soldier's body was used to going for days without food or drink, even without rest. Suddenly, and with great violence, everything returned to him: he was Seraphimon and he had been summoned to-

"I apologize, my friend," a warm voice stated, finally breaking the eternal silence.

A shaft of light appeared some distance in front of him, illuminating the soft, plush-like appearance of his fellow Angel, Kerpymon.

"Indeed," another voice, this one a bit harsher, added, "but we had to test you for the trials that lie before you.

Another shaft of light appeared, this one revealing a figure shrouded in a scarlet cape, the Royal Knight Gallantmon. Four more pillars of light appeared, these ones massive, their rays blinding to even Seraphimon, the greatest of the Angels. In them stood the Digital Sovereigns, the Four Holy Beasts. It had been nearly two hundred years since their last gathering, two hundred years of terrible violence; yet here they were, so calm that none could guess that they were the bitterest of enemies.

"It has come to our attention," Zhuquiomon spoke, his voice vibrating throughout both the chamber and the very being of the Angel, "that those who call themselves the 'Lords' of that abomination, the Dark Area, have gained considerable power. While determining the successor of Lord Fanglongmon is of utmost importance, we also realize that letting arrogant fools such as those do as they please would have a negative effect on everyone. Naturally, even we would have difficulty waging a war on two fronts, so for the time being, we have recalled all of our troops and are preparing them for dealing with the corruption and madness that lies before them. However, one problem remains."

Having finished, he fell silent, giving Seraphimon time to breathe.

Then, Azulongmon began to speak, though his voice did not give off an intense pressure, as his colleague's had, but rather was grandfatherly in nature, "We need to work together in order to end the fighting quickly, but there are many different kinds of Digimon in each of our armies. We need someone to unite them, someone known for his heroics, but not affiliated with any army. We asked Gallantmon, here, but he refused, and suggested one of the Angels. Cherubimon, in turn, immediately said that the only one who was fit for the job was you, Seraphimon."

Hearing this, he looked at his old friend, who grinned broadly, and the brilliantly-armored knight, who nodded respectfully.

"I accept this honor!" he responded, welling with pride.

"Very good," all four Sovereigns finished, "then in the name of His Majesty Fanglongmon, we proclaim you, Seraphimon, to be the Grand General of the United Digital Army!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Charge!" the call resounded across the black mass covering the landscape.

A moment later and the mass had moved; upon closer inspection, it was not simply a mass of some unknown substance but the troops of the United Digital Army, led by Grand General Seraphimon, himself, in addition to Lieutenant General Dominimon. The soldiers were gushing with excitement at the thought of it: two of the Great Angels were leading them into glorious battle with the forces of Darkness and Corruption. They had no need to fear for their lives, as those two would protect all of them with their Holy power that would shatter the might of the fiends serving the skeletal Lord, Hermon. They had no need to fear for losing the fight, as their actions were blessed by the will of the Four Holy Beasts, and they could not be stopped. They had no need to fear anything, least of all the century-old warlock whose spellcasting could not be fathomed by his contemporaries.

Naturally, they had absolutely nothing to fear. Theirs was the side of right, and no evil could ever do any harm to them. Or so they thought, as they marched ahead, straight toward Firewall Castle, the center of Firewall Domain, the headquarters and residence of the Dark Lord Hermon. They would put an end to his black magic, his viral programming, once and for all, eliminating the greatest threat to all that was good and holy in more than a century. Thus, they charged straight ahead when commanded, heading straight to their deaths.

The forces of righteousness charged straight ahead, into the enemy with a tremendous crash. There was a single, terrible cry, the cry of a thousand lives being extinguished in a single moment, as the front line of the paladins struck the bulk of the fiendish soldiers and were slain. In only an instant, the entire first wave of attackers was sliced and blasted to bits, a pixilated sea of fragmented data filling the air. The horror was only magnified as the sea, which had originally attempted to return to its own side, was drawn back to the defenders and devoured, making them stronger. Not just that, but nearly a hundred beams of profane light illuminated the dark sky, as a number of them digivolved into more powerful forms.

They mocked the foolish besiegers, laughing heartily at their arrogance. That good would win simply because it was good was a foolish concept, especially with their pathetic level of power. Hell, their Lord Hermon had only just built his army; imagine the sheer slaughter that would happen if the same battle were taking place at the castle of one of the other Lords. It was a delicious thought, but at that moment, most of them were focused on the present, on their own battle, their greatest chance for a joyous massacre of simpletons. The mindless chaos that their world had experienced for so long was over; it was the time for large-scale killings.

"Volley!" the opposing commander shouted, shocking his speechless troops back into the world of the living.

But they were just zombies. Seeing the terrible deaths of their comrades had completely drained them of their fighting spirit. Those capable of attacking at a range did so, but most of the projectiles were simply swatted away, only for their efforts to be rewarded with a wave of hellfire. Many more of the attackers died in this assault, including a large number of those not anywhere near the front.

"Everyone, cover your heads," the commander shouted but to no avail.

Seraphimon turned back and forth and saw many, either fragmented or dying on all sides. They would not last for long, and their defeat would be singularly his fault. He had thought that they were ready; they had been so eager to show their great skill in battle, but this…it was too much. He had both sorely underestimated his enemy and overestimated his own army.

He knew that the world was a place where only the though survived, but perhaps he had thought that tough meant that they would be able to fight at the same level that he had when he was their age. He was finally beginning to see why groups such as the Great Angels and the Royal Knights were held in such esteem. The other army, on the other hand was made of mercenaries and cutthroats that had lived a sizable portion of their lives amidst the death and corruption of the Dark Area. They had been subjected to pain of a level that his own men, not to mention he personally, had never felt and could never imagine. It was they who were the true survivors, the true soldiers of the bloodstained Digital World.

But he would not stand for that. Whatever their reason, whatever pain they had endured was no reason for them to do this, to stand before those that simply wanted to live in peace and deny them that simple joy. He suddenly took off, despite cries from Dominimon not to leave his command post, all eight powerful wings flapping at once, propelling him at the enemy like an armored rocket. With a cry, he summoned his holy sword, Excalibur, slashing through a number of the defenders. Those nearby wailed in fear at the sight of the weapon, a blade of pure golden energy extending forth from the Angel's armor.

It had been ages since they had last felt that terrible, horrifying emotion, but in the presence of such a weapon as that, a weapon that had felled tyrants and monsters without pause, ignoring any defense they had put before them, the mercenaries couldn't help but be frightened. There was another flash of golden light, then another burst of pixels, as half a dozen soldiers of the unholy army were struck down with a single blow. The sword came down again and again, a thunderbolt against the stormclouds, a shooting star across the night sky, driving the fiends back into the data from whence they coalesced. The hero's own troops merely stood dumbfounded by his power, unable to help, but feeling his each and every movement as if it were they who were fighting.

"With me!" he shouted.

And they came. They charged straight into the heart of the enemy with renewed vigor, this time not being simply killed off as they had been before. Lieutenant General Dominimon attempted to quell the chaos at first, but after seeing that it was hopeless, he too joined in the fray, fighting as madly as the rest of them.

"Lord Seraphimon!" he cried over the din of the battle. "You should put an end to this! Hurry, find that traitor, Hermon and slay him!"

The Grand General nodded, wading through the crowd, his massive form forcing all out of his way, be they enemy or friend. He attacked when necessary to make his way through, but he had begun to conserve his energy. Fanglongmon knew that he would need every last bit of his strength to fight against the Dark Lord. He couldn't help but grin morosely: he had been both friend and rival to Hermon for nearly a century, and in all that time, all those occasions on which they had fought each other, they had never been able to decide a victor between them. But now, they would be forced to, and the outcome of that fight would determine the fate of the entire Digital World.

He didn't want it to end this way; how could his friend have done such things? To have become Virus attribute, to digivolve into such an abomination, to expand the Dark Area: what was the purpose behind all those nightmarish deeds? He could not fathom the answer, though he dearly wished he could, so that he might perhaps talk his old friend out of whatever hairbrained scheme he was trying this time. Alas, the time for talking was over. One of them would live, and one would die.

The Angel continued until he had breached the castle's defenses and simply walked in, unimpeded. Some of the servants tried to challenge him, but with a flick of his wrist, they were dispersed into pixels. Soon, they simply stopped trying, and were content to monitor his progress into the castle from a safe distance. Had Hermon sent all of his troops to the front as a show of power, or perhaps…

"Ah, Grand General Seraphimon, I've been expecting you. Please, come in."


	5. Chapter 5

"Grand General?" Seraphimon responded bitterly. "Are we really so distant that you must use titles, Lord Hermon?"

That greeting had caught him off guard: he knew that his old friend had changed, but he had thought that they would at least be able to banter during their fight as they always had. He stretched his muscles anxiously, mentally preparing himself as he gazed across the room at his faceless opponent.

"Why must we always hide our faces, our true feelings," Mys had once said. "You and Phani wear those helmets with crosses on them to 'protect your holy eyes from the corruption of this world.' That's what the ancient text files say, but how do we know that they don't simply blind you to the truth? Just like this eyed mask of mine," he added, biting his lip as he forcibly removed it, revealing his beautiful face, "which allows me to see the flow of power but hides both my own face and the faces of all those whom I meet, there must be consequences for wearing that helmet. But more importantly," he continued, mischievously placing his mask over one eye and gazing through it thoughtfully, " is that the masks that we wear at all times, those personas that we all wear, also prevent everyone from living in peace.

For example, the Sovereigns, who are supposed to be our great leaders, our idols, our gods, merely wear masks of power and majesty. They must keep up that illusion, they must continue wearing those masks, as they have long forgotten how to remove them; therefore this war of one hundred and fifty years shall continue until three of them fall or the digital world lies in ruins. Raph, you must promise me," he finished solemnly, replacing the mask that all Mysticmon wore, "that no matter what, you will always be true, if not with me or Phani, then at least to yourself. And I will as well. And Phani, well, she's far too pure to have to make such a vain promise."

He laughed, "Just promise me, no matter what…"

Seraphimon wondered if the Dark Lord remembered that promise the two of them had made all those decades ago. He doubted it, seeing the horrible skull mask and the dark aura surrounding someone who had once detested violence, especially since it was at least partially because it messed up his appearance. But still, he couldn't help but wonder if his friend was not being true to himself, though not to the Angels nor the world. The Grand General wished that he could believe that, but it didn't matter: he would still have to battle the corrupt warlock until one of them fell and rose no more. He resisted the urge to summon his sword to his side.

"Of course I should call you by your title, Grand General. It is quite an honor to hold the whole of the digital world in your hand, able to decide who lives and who dies. You should be quite proud of yourself."

"What do you mean by that, Mys?" he responded, trying one final time to snap the hero back to his senses.

"I meant exactly what I said." he chuckled, his grating voice tearing at the Angel's ears, "You now possess a power once reserved solely for His Majesty Fanglongmon. How does that make you feel, the knowledge that you have been elevated to the status of a god, if only temporarily? Are you tempted to drag out this little crusade of yours in order to hold that power a little longer?"

"What?! I would never-"

"Of course, the leader of the Great Angels would never think of such a thing. But you have to remember: a number of the Dark Lords were Angels, or close, before their fall. What makes you think that you're any better then they were? Daemon was a Seraphimon, too, and Lucemon was even higher."

"Is this what made you fall, Mys? Was it this logic of hopelessness?"

"No, old friend," the reply came immediately; he had been waiting for this, "it was the power, the power over all that live, the power over the data of the dead, the power to play god: the same power that you now hold."

"Do you really believe that's what this is all about, Mys?! Power?!"

"Of course! That's what it's always been about! I'm just the bearer of bad news!"

"So it seems that we can't sort this out then…"

"Indeed."

"Excalibur!" Seraphimon shouted, rushing forward with a flap of wings, as he summoned his blazing golden sword to his gauntlet, swinging downward at the fiend.

"Barai Dorchadas!" Hermon countered, summoning a metal rod with a throbbing, dissolving purple orb at one end, burning with corrupt magics.

The two weapons struck with a clash, the sheer magical power of the staff holding back the blade of pure holy energy. With an effort, the sorcerer pushed his foe back, nearly knocking the armored soldier off his feet. The Angel knew that he would have to be careful: in all the digital world, only Mysticmon had rivaled him in swordplay, despite his lower level and light frame. Now that they were of equal level and the spellcaster was encased in armor just as strong as his, the challenge would be that much greater: he was finally fighting his friend at full strength, with intent to kill.

They both stepped back before striking again. They attacked at the same time, but the General dodged under the thrust of the Dark Lord's unwieldy staff, slicing him across the stomach, causing a burst of pixels to erupt from the wound. He swung again, only for the paladin to dodge, retreating back several steps.

"Seven Heavens!" he cried, letting loose a blast of divine energy from his open palm.

"Genesis March!" was the response, as the dark wizard stomped forward, letting loose an oozing wave of energy from his rod.

The two attacks collided with enough sheer force that the entire castle began to shake from their force, but in the end, the foul violet energy broke through, shattering the holy spell like a blasphemous rock through a stained glass window in a church. The energy of the defeated blast was then consumed by the whirling mass of darkness, becoming tainted by its failure.

"March of the Seven Hells!" Hermon chuckled as the ooze enveloped his foe, drowning him in shadow.

He turned away, glancing down at his wound while signaling for an attendant to fetch medical supplies. Seraphimon did not have it so lucky: he was hardly able to hold back the blast with both hands and was rapidly being pushed buck into the wall. Suddenly though, he felt a burst of strength, or perhaps the blast weakened; whatever it was, he broke through, erupting forth like a volcano. With a quick slash of his sword, he slew the warlock before he even realized what had happened, his peripheral vision blocked completely by the mask that he wore. As the Dark Lord's data began to fragment, the General looked through the pixels quickly, his eyes like a hawk's.

Seeing what he wanted, he took his holy sword and sliced again, cutting in two what appeared to be a mummified heart: Hermon's Digicore, his soul.

"Farewell, my friend," Seraphimon concluded silently. "I cannot let you reincarnate for fear that you might further harm both yourself and others. I will keep your last words a secret from Phani, as you would want. Goodbye."

Elsewhere, a jackal-headed, bewinged figure stood, looking at what lay before him in wonderment.

"This one should not be here," he mused. "What have you done this time, Soul of Metal?"


End file.
